


The Nightmare

by cheshireArcher



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Henry V - Shakespeare
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Nighmares, Pre-Slash, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArcher/pseuds/cheshireArcher
Summary: Orléans sometimes wakes up screaming.





	The Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gentle_herald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentle_herald/gifts).



> Plot bunny that reared its head while talking to my friend about how Orléans probably wakes up screaming from nightmares, and the Constable takes care of him.
> 
> Note to self: STOP COMING UP WITH ONESHOTS AND WRITE YOUR DAMN WIPS

Orléans had tossed and turned all night long, mumbling in his sleep. His moans had grown slightly more coherent as his obvious nightmare progressed. Then there was a scream tearing from his lungs as he jolted upright, now awake. He looked around his surroundings, noting he was just in his tent, on campaign. He sat on his bed roll, gasping for breath. The only other occupant was the Constable, who as usual was working late into the night. 

Now the Constable, who had been absorbed in his maps, looked down at his young companion. 

"Nightmare?"

Orléans nodded, weakly. "I keep seeing it happen..." he said, his voice shaking. "I wasn't even there and I keep seeing them killing him..." 

"Who?" The Constable asked.

Orléans covered his face with his hands. "My father," he said when he could breathe again. "I keep having nightmares about them killing my father."

The Constable didn't have to pry into that matter, he knew what had happened. Orléans' father, Louis, Duke of Orléans, had been brutally murdered in the street by men employed by John the Fearless of Burgundy. The current Duke, Charles, had been but a youth of thirteen. 

"I wish these things didn't happen," Orléans said. "I hope Joan is safe." Joan was yet another tragedy, or at least part of a tragedy in Orléans' life. His wife, Isabelle of Valois, had died after their daughter Joan's birth. 

The floodgates of Orléans' heart were open and he began a steady, nearly sobbing description of the loss and fear he'd experienced. Then there was all the political scheming, Armagnac bullying him, and the constant fighting against seemingly everyone. And he kept crying that he was sorry, he shouldn't feel this way, he shouldn't be talking about it and burdening the Constable with his troubles, he shouldn't be such a weak little child. 

The Constable had seen many men, young, once healthy men, break down under the stress of war and horrible things they'd seen, but it was part of war and he was used to, no matter how awful it was watching such episodes play out. He had a heart steeled to face these things, he couldn't let his heart break for every young man he saw suffer. But something was different about Orléans and he wasn't sure why, but here he could not remain emotionless. Not when it was Orléans.

The Constable pulled Orléans to rest his head on his knee. He stroked the Duke's curly hair, shushing him. "You're safe," he said, unexpected compassion creeping into his voice. "You're stronger than you think." Orléans closed his eyes, feeling the Constable's fingers raking through his hair. His breath became more stable as he let the Constable take care of him. He fell asleep, either there or after the Constable had moved him back to bed.

All he knew was the nightmare didn't return that night.


End file.
